Party for the princess of podcasting

Friday night saw yet another party at Samizdata HQ; it has indeed been a busy summer for such gatherings. This one was in honour of Tracy Sheridan, CEO of podcasting company Waxxi. I was fortunate to meet Tracy at the inaugural Techdirt Greenhouse event in Silicon Valley earlier this year, and since then have had the pleasure of her company twice more in the Bay Area. I promised her that if she came to town, we would throw her a party, and – what do you know? – she took me up on it. We are glad she did!

Yes, it’s a living manga character/Samizdata editor.

The Algonquin Roundtable crowd had nothing on this bunch.

Someone had just told me that Ken Livingstone was hanging from a light pole outside; seconds later, the truth emerged and my smile disappeared.

The Three Blogateers: JP Rangaswami, Adriana Lukas, and guest of honour Tracy Sheridan

Very clever. Would you care to share your knowledge with us? Actually, allow me to rephrase that: if you would be so kind as to share your knowledge (pertaining to the identity of your mother tongue) with us, it would be much appreciated.

Cryptonocomic.
Give it a rest.
Our hosts are having another party.
The enjoyment of which, they have shared with us!
What’s in an accent or a mother tongue?
I have lived in a forign country for nigh on 30 years now
look you boyo!
But it stangely feels like home!
Why?
Because.

cryptononcommie: maybe no one’s answering you because we’re in shock due to the fact that, for once, you’re not ranting and raving about how the British Empire failed to nip Islamofascism in the bud or how stupid the West is.

cryptononcommie: you are polite and I don’t mind you asking. The only reason I didn’t answer is because the party last night was over and it was about 2am here.

The languages I spoke when growing up are Slovak and Czech (and Russian but let’s not dwell on that). My first language now is English and God help me if I had to go back to my mother tongue in my professional life or otherwise! I’d be tounge-tied.

I saw Vec Makropulos (called Sredstvo Makropulosa there) last year in Moscow, accompanying my host, and kept wondering, til I asked (since the appearance of its being theatrical Old Russian didn’t fit!), why I had so much trouble understanding it, not having read the part about its being in Czech, and somehow not having heard any of those weird hacek-r sounds. (Well, this at least explained the, um, subtitles, hidden by scenery above the stage.) There’s got to be better Czech music out there somewhere, or there’s a pretty good excuse not to speak it.

James Waterton:
I’m insulted; I truly am. I’ve certainly ranted and raved about a far more varied set of topics than those that you have listed.
Besides, this is all part of my campaign to humanize myself, so that when I muster up the sufficient energy required to produce more of my rants and raves, I shall have a more receptive audience. It’s all part of the plan, you see.

Adriana:
I understand; I assure you that I did eventually get over the immense pain exerted upon my being by your belated response.:)

It may be of interest to you (although it probably isn’t) to know that one of my two guesses was a West Slavic language, though in truth, it was neither Czech, nor Slovak. If you do not mind me asking, what citizenship did you end up with after the Velvet Divorce?

On a slightly different note, am I correct in assuming that the Russian was part of the state mandated education system, and not due to parental afiliations?

Johnathan Pearce:
Thank you. After all, were I sufficiently similar to the rest of you (or humanity), there would be little reason for my continued existance (other than pleasures, carnal and intellectual, I suppose).

On another note, I’ve noticed that while you commented upon the “fetchiness” of Adriana’s hair, you have not made any similar comments pertaining to me. I’m sure you agree that such blatant discrimination is not proper; don’t let it happen again, lest I report you to the appropriate EU institution (I’m certain one exists).

Maybe ‘Samiz-lite’ was a tad cruel. Given the evident joy shared by editors and readers alike for repeated coverage of your soirees (plus the obligatory pic of Pouting Ada) perhaps Samiz-Tatler is nearer the mark?

I will confess that upon my first meeting with Adriana, I did after a while ask a very similar question as cryptononcommie. Adriana spoke (and speaks) very rapid and erudite English, but it is an international English rather than one native to this Isle and I had a certain curiousity as to where she had grown up. She answered me on that occasion in a similar way to which she answered in this thread.

I do ask this kind of question of people quite a lot. It is slightly intrusive, but it comes from simple curiousity on my part – I am interested in how people came to come to this great city. If people don’t wish to answer then that is absolutely fine. The flipside is that I don’t mind if people ask the same question of me – I am after all an immigrant here too.

However, my favourite recent conversation along these lines went as follows.

Me: “By the way – what country do you come from?”
Other person: “Lithuania. Where do you come from”.
Me: “Australia”.
Other person: “Oh, okay. I thought you came from Lewisham”.

You could use the power feed wires (to the light fixture) and then hang him just before it gets dark. That way you would be double sure. But agreed, you probably should choose a strong looking pole, first.

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The Samizdata people are a bunch of sinister and heavily armed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the values of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many crimes is a sense of humour and the intermittent use of British spelling.